Constellations
by Mikozume
Summary: Upon changing his status to "he" rather than "she", Dave Strider moves to New York with his brothers and meets John Egbert, who makes him feel funny, and Karkat Vantas, who's dying of cancer, and through a suicidal episode discovers a notebook with exactly fifteen empty pages that brings him on fifteen trips to find places that might just be worth living for.
1. Act One, Part One

Your name is DOVE STRIDER and you are ELEVEN. You live with your TWO OLDER BROTHERS and you feel like SOMETHING IS OFF. You are AT SCHOOL on the FIRST DAY. Your teacher has told you to split up and go to sit in table groups rather than sitting on the floor where you are now (even though you are in sixth grade). You stand up and make your way to the closest table, occupied by three boys, but you are stopped by them.

"You can't sit with us," one of them scowls at you. You blink, confused.

"Why not?" You challenge them boldly. They all scoff.

"Cause you're a _girl!_ " The same one places his books in the seat you were going to take. "Only boys can sit here." You stare at them. Only boys? What did they mean? Was there actually a difference that mattered that much? You scowl at them but turn and sit at an all-girls table.

When the end of the day comes you are still hearing the conversation repeated in your head. It happened three times that day. You couldn't sit with the boys in your science class, you couldn't play any of the sports with the boys in the free period after lunch, and you couldn't even choose 'video games' as your English topic because your teacher wanted you to pick something less 'boyish' like drawing or dancing. You feel put-off and confused as you walk through the door to your apartment. You walk right to the bathroom and you stare at yourself in the mirror. While you spent your day wondering what made you so different from the boys in your class, it's painfully obvious now. You've never even noticed it before. Your chest isn't flat and your hips are too wide to be a boy. Your eyes are too wide and your eyelashes are too long and curled. You frown, troubled by this. All the girls ever wanted to do growing up was dolls or house. You've _always_ hung out with boys. You've _grown up_ with boys. You've always dreaded hanging out with girls but you never felt like this before. You've never felt to dejected and… wrong. Something here feels _wrong._ The curves that set you apart from doing what you'd like feel wrong and your eyes make you frown even more deeply. You shrug off the feeling and turn to go back to your bedroom. Bro's just gotten home and he ruffles your hair.

"Hey sis," he greets you. "How was your first day?" Even the 'sis' in his sentence irks you.

"Fine," you murmur.

"Are you sure you don't want to go clothes shopping?" He asks for the five millionth time this week. "Seems like all your shirts are getting tattered. Don't you want something a little more, I dunno, girly?" You frown, shaking your head sternly. You grab your backpack and retreat to your room, closing the door behind you.

The next time it happens is also at school. Your whole first week has been miserable. You can't sit with the boys because you're a girl, but the girls won't take you either. You're left lonely and confused. There's been one lingering thought this whole week, a repeating mantra of _I wish I was a boy_ that won't stop. It's still chanting when you're being stared down in P.E because you want to play on the competitive teams and not the recreational.

"You can't play football! You're a girl! All girls can do is paint nails and play dolls! That's all they're good for. Go play rec with the other girls." He's staring you down and everyone else on his team is nodding and snickering. You're taken aback. You turn to look at the other girls, they're staring at you distastefully.

"We don't want her!" One protests. "She's not even like, a real girl." Your mouth is gaping open at the sheer bluntness they're all using. You snap your jaw shut, shoot them all a fierce glare and turn on your heel, walking out of the building. You're fuming, you're upset. You're sick of being a girl. You're in tears, just like a girl. You slam every door you can until you reach the bathroom once more. You hate what you look like, you hate the curves. You bang open the cabinet doors and toss things aside until you pull out wraps that you used as headbands. The kind-of transparent materiel came in four colors and was wrapped like ACE bandages and you just tore off a bit and used it as a headband. This time you tore off a lot, wrapping it around your chest until it was flat. You grab the scissors from the cabinet and don't even hesitate to cut off your locks in long snips. You let what's left shaggily fall around your neck. You fall to the ground, still crying. You forget about the scissors in your hand until you gasp in pain and cradle your slowly bleeding wrist to your chest. You watch it drip down, entranced. You pick the scissors back up with a shaking hand and make another shaky line on your arm. You continue until it looks like a barcode of red, when you snap out of it and drop the scissors in shock, kicking them away and hurriedly bandaging the wound, breathing hard. You pull on a shirt and sneak to your room, pulling on the baggiest sweater and sweatpants you can find. Glancing in the mirror you are more satisfied than you have ever been. It's completely hard to breathe but you think it's worth it. With a hopeful thought you think maybe if you look more like a boy they won't be so keen on kicking you out to go to the girls. You are probably wrong.

You ensure that your arm is covered and you storm into the living room next, where Bro is on the couch. Surely he's different.

"Bro," you say in a demanding voice. "Will you let me use your turntables?" He doesn't even turn around.

"I dunno, Dove. Turntables aren't really something I've ever heard of a girl enjoying." You blink, astonished and even more upset. The world isn't fair to girls. He finally turns around and blink in surprise.

"Did Dirk take you get that done?" He asks. You shake your head angrily.

"I did it." Your voice is flat and you turn around and walk back upstairs, more upset than you've ever been.


	2. Act One, Part Two

It's been five months and nothing has changed except for you developing the habit of always binding your chest. It wasn't a problem up until now, because up until now you didn't have a problem breathing. Now, though, you're gasping for breath but can't get any air into your lungs. You can hear someone hurridly telling your teacher and you see her come over and talk to you but you can't hear what she's saying. You can't breathe and you're panicking. She picks you up and you end up in the nurses office and you're clawing at your chest trying to figure out how to breathe. Black invades the corner of your eyes and you feel the nurse catch you as you black out.

When you wake up it's on your couch and there is a muffled conversation happening in the kitchen. You can breathe fine now and you realize with growing dread that it's because someone has taken off the bandages. You also realize that your hoodie is gone, and you are just in your T-shirt and shorts. Your arm is freshly wrapped in gauze, covering the previously uncovered red lines running up and down your arm. You pull the blanket further around you and bury your face in the pillow, groaning slightly. The conversation pauses and chairs are pushed back. Feet appear and the couch shifts as you feel someone sit on the couch next to you. The other set of feet sit down on the chair next to you.

"Dove," Bro is the one next to you. "We need to talk."

"No we don't."

"You could have died." Dirk, on the couch with you, sounds angry. You wince, curling into yourself. This is why you didn't tell them. Now they're gonna kick you out.

"We're not mad," Bro says, sounding like he's chiding Dirk. "We're just worried, Dove." You grit your teeth.

"I'm fine."

"Show me your arm and say that again." Bro snaps. "Why are you doing that shit, Dove? Why couldn't you just talk to us?"

"Because you're just like everyone else!" You snap back, standing up and knocking the blanket off of you. " _You can't do that because you're a girl, Dove!_ Well maybe I don't want to be a fucking girl! I'm tired of being ignored at school, no one likes me. Everyone's a jerk and I'm not allowed to do anything I want to do because I'm a girl," you feel tears gathering in your eyes as you pour out your frustration. "And I'm different, I don't know what's wrong with me. I was worried about saying anything because there's something _wrong_ with me." You breathe out the last part, sinking back into the couch. Neither of your brothers say anything. Bro moves so that you're all side by side and Dirk puts his arm around your shoulder.

"There's nothing wrong with you, Dove. After you passed out we talked with your nurse and she mentioned some things. Ever heard of transgender?" You shake your head slowly. "It's where someone's like, born into the wrong body she said. Like you're a girl physically but a guy mentally."

"Like I was supposed to be a guy?" You venture slowly. "Then Mom must have fucked up pretty bad because I'm sure I'm not. That would be cool though, being a guy."

"Do you wish you were? Is that why…" He doesn't finish his sentence and he doesn't need to.

"Yeah, I guess. I didn't really think about it at first. I was just mad that I wasn't able to do what I want because I'm a girl. Then I just got fed up with being a girl and it made me so mad that I looked like one and I thought maybe if I didn't then I wouldn't get treated like one. I knew that it wasn't safe but I guess I really didn't care. It was hard to breathe and made my chest ache but… It was worth it." Bro frowns at that.

"It's really fucking dangerous to do that, Dove. You can't do that shit anymore, okay? Either of it. There's safer ways to deal with both. Don't touch the fucking bandages, there's something else we can get for that, okay? And instead of… doing anything dumb just come talk to one of us or do something to distract yourself. Read a fucking book or break something invaluable or talk to someone online. Just don't hurt yourself. That shit isn't cool." You nod, sighing. You tell them you're tired and they just nod, standing up.

You hear them back in the kitchen as you fall back asleep.

ACT TWO PART ONE

Bro gets you binders that you can use instead of the bandages and Dirk checks every once in a while to make sure you haven't gone back to hurting yourself and talks to you when you're upset or frustrated. Bro gets an offer to move to a place in New York for work and they agree, deciding that moving would make it easier for you to transition. You go by Dave now and you feel much better.

At school you still go by Dove and use female pronouns because you don't want to get bullied any more than you already do for the last week that you're there, but at home Bro and Dirk are trying their best to remember to call you Dave and he. You get a happy fluttering feeling in your stomach every time Bro ruffles your head and casually calls you 'little bro' and you practically break your back with excitement when they let you try out their turntables.

When you're actually in the car driving to your new place you're bored out of your mind, though. Dirk and Bro take turns driving and the one who isn't driving annoys you to entertain themselves. You're currently staring at your lockscreen, which makes it look like you can just reach in and let your hand brush the trees of the world that your favorite characters live in. You let your hand reach over… tap the glass. Disappointment floods you briefly but you didn't expect anything different. You look up and out your window, you've been driving for a day and a half now and you're actually seeing the ocean now. That means you're close, right?

"Ten more minutes." You click off your phone and set it in the bag you brought in the car with you. Peering out the window you see the start of a city in the distance and a fluttering feeling fills you. Striders don't feel scared, but you're starting to feel a little bit afraid. You've got your binder on, you're wearing a T-shirt and jeans and you cut your hair so it's short… but what if you don't pass? No one here will call you Dove but you're scared someone will find out. You're scared you look like a girl. You're scared you won't fit in here or something will go wrong. The city is now all around you and you feel a flutter of something else, but this time it's anticipation.

You're a Strider. You can take on the city.


	3. Act Two, Part One

Your apartment is a little larger than your last one. When you open the door you're in the living room area and the kitchen is a little ways back. Past the kitchen is another open space that leads to a hallway with four doors. You choose the last room down the hall and push open the door. All the walls are pale white and the carpet is a light cream. You'll ask about painting the walls. You place your bag on the bed, which was already moved here with the rest of your furniture. It's all just cluttered around the center, though. You get started moving everything around. Your boxes will be here in a few days, so you have just enough room to maneuver everything. Your desk and computer go by the window, your bed against the wall, your dresser by the bed, posters on the wall. There's a large empty space but you figure you'll fill that up somehow. You exit your room, opening the fridge and finding it empty. You frown at this, walking into the living room. Dirk is hooking up the TV.

"Dirk I'm taking your money." You tell him, shrugging on a coat.

"Why?"

"We don't have any food." Dirk look up.

"Shit, yeah. I'll text you a list of stuff to get, okay?" He hands you a fifty and pushes you out the door. You huff, used to them kicking you out when they didn't want you in the way. You set out down the sidewalk once you're outside and you try to carefully remember the way that you go. You don't know where anything is, so you just mindlessly walk down the street. You end up at a park, and decide to just sit on a bench and pull up directions. You pull out your phone, pulling up a Google Maps app. Someone sits on the bench next to you and you look up. A boy with black frames is sitting next to you. He has messy black hair and bright blue eyes. You glance away when he looks up.

"Hey," he greets you.

"Hey." You murmur back, but you aren't sure why. Since when do you talk to people you've never met? You aren't trying to be polite, that's for fucking sure.

"Are you lost?" He notices the app you've pulled up. You shrug.

"No. We just moved here today and I went out to go get some food cause we don't have any and then I realized I have no fucking idea where to get food around here." Why are you still talking to him? Why are you actually giving him a real answer?

"There's a Walgreens a little way away from here. I could give you directions if you want?" You nod your head, grateful but not showing it. He pulls out a piece of paper from a notebook he had in the bag over his shoulder and begins to scrawl directions on it, still conversing with you.

"You look about my age. Are you starting school here soon?" You nod again. "Where are you going?"

"Skaia… you?" He nods, grinning.

"That's my school! Ha, now you already have one friend, huh?" You blink. You've just made a friend? You don't recall ever doing that before. You shrug.

"Yeah." He hands you the paper, still smiling.

"So I'll see you soon, then." He pauses, his eyes lighting up. "My name is John, by the way."

"Dave." You feel a burst of happiness when you say that. You've never introduced yourself as Dave before. He grins once more, standing up.

"Nice to meet you, Dave!" You nod to him, standing up as you continue on your way, using the directions John gave you as guide.

When you open the door using your foot (because you're kind of weighed down with a lot of bags) it bangs into the wall and you cautiously hope you didn't already dent the wall.

You set the bags down, breathing out a sigh.

"Did you bring food, Dave?" Dirk asks from the couch, the TV set up. You don't reply, but dig through and grab a bunch of plastic cups and a thing of apple juice. You pour it into the cup and leave the groceries for your brothers, going to your room. You flop down on your bed, wishing you had wifi. You kind of wish you had anyone you could talk to from before you moved, but you don't even have anyone you could miss. You've never had anyone but you're brothers, you've never really made a friend. You've—no, wait. You have made a friend. John said he was your friend, right? There, that's one. It's already a new start. You make your way back into the living room but decide instead to see what they did while you were gone. The room next to yours is the bathroom, which is basically already set up. The next, which is across from yours, is Dirk's room. He hasn't even gotten started on it yet. The last is obviously Bro's, and the only thing he has even touched is his turntables, which sit ready to go. The room at the end of the hallway has been turned into kind of an extra living room. It's the only room with a fireplace so there's one couch on the wall by it. You're probably going to get another couch or two. In the front room Dirk's moved from the couch. The TV is set up and playing some news channel. The black leather couch is in front of it, the blanket draped over the back as always. There's a round chair in the corner of the room, game consoles randomly scattered about in front of it. The kitchen is empty with the exception of the paper plates and plastic cups you got and the food in the fridge. You notice that in the living room there's an ironic painting hung up. The painting itself is completely normal, just an abstract brown and white theme, which is what makes it ironic. There's a matching one on the wall opposite of it. You lean against the counter in the kitchen.

 _Dave Strider._ You try out the name on your tongue just like when you picked the name. You watch Bro threaten to strife Dirk from the front room and you let yourself smile when you're sure neither of them is watching.


	4. Act Two, Part Two

You can't recall the last time you were actually this nervous. Today is the first day that you are being forced to go to your new school and you're practically trembling with fear. Bro knocks on your door and you don't answer so he just comes in.

"Excuse me, I didn't say come in." You scoff at him, but you know he catches the slight shaking.

"What's got you all in a twist?" He pretends to pet your hair lovingly until you swat him away.

"Nothing! It's just—what if I don't fit in here either? What if someone finds out, what if everyone finds out, what if I don't pass?" Bro shakes his head.

"You will. You'll be fine, Dave. I promise. Make some friends, kid, okay?" You glare at him half-heartedly and stand up, grabbing your backpack. You sigh on your way out and you sigh again when you walk in. Your grade, seventh grade, is supposed to meet in the cafeteria. You're a little worried because you don't know anyone and you walk in cautiously. You hesitantly lean against the wall for a moment, deciding what to do. You could always—

"Dave! Hey, Dave!" You turn your head to see John waving at you. You blink, waving back. He motions you over and you hesitantly sit down across from him. He gives you a wide grin.

"This is Dave," he says to the people already sitting there. "Dave, this is Rose, Kanaya, Jade, Karkat, Sollux, Eridan, Tavros, Gamzee and Feferi. That's… a lot of names? But you'll learn everyone in our grades by the end of the year, probably. It's not too hard, the school is small." You're not actually sure how to reply, because John is actually your first friend and while you feel grateful you aren't sure if 'thanks' is the right response. So you just nod, smiling just a little because you don't want them to think you're rude, and glance around at the people sitting at the table. One of the girls gives you a soft giggle.

"Are you new here? I haven't seen you before." _I'm new everywhere. I'm new… completely. I'm completely different now and I don't even know who I am._

"Yeah."

"That's cool! Where are you from?"

"Texas."

" _Texas?_ Wow. That's far away! Why did you move?"

"Job transfer."

"How did you meet John?" A girl with long black hair and green lips asks in a careful voice.

"I got completely lost on my first day in New York and I ran into him at a park…." She nods and they all slip into their own conversations. You pull out your phone and put in your earbuds. _Lion_ starts playing and you sit and pay attention to the words to distract yourself. When it ends a song you don't remember begins playing. _Run To You_ by _Pentatonix._ The song is sad, slow, and frankly you don't know why you own it. It's just making you sad, but it's got a beautiful undertone and the words are brilliant. You remember buying it to remix it, but never getting around to it.

A bell snaps you out of your thoughts and as you stand up a girl with blonde hair smiles at you.

"Meet us here at lunch, okay?" You nod, surprised, and glance down at your sceduale, sucking in a breath.

"Well," you whisper. "Let's do this, Dave."

When the end of the day came you somehow ended up walking home with John… to your own apartment. You had just been walking most of the way, until John got a text from his dad saying that he would be home around seven instead of before John like usual. When John realized he forgot his key you offered to let him come over before you even realized what you were doing. When you pushed open the door to your apartment you were relieved that it was clean. There was boxes scattered everywhere still and it had that weird 'new apartment' smell. You lead him past the front room and kitchen and into the living room where Bro and Dirk are each sitting cross-legged on the couch, playing a video game. When they see you Dirk gives you a grin.

"Just seeing if the good old X-Box works," he tells you in a fake reassuring voice. You roll your eyes.

"These are my brothers. Brothers, this is John." Bro pauses the game and looks up, scanning John with his eyes before grinning.

"Aw, Dave made a friend!" He chirps, pretending to be an excited mother. "Finally, I was worried he would _never make one!_ Dave's _first friend, Dirk!_ Isn't this exciting?" You know what they're getting at. As Dove you had several 'friends' as a kid, but as Dave you've never had a friend. They don't know he kind of is your first friend, though.

"Oh yeah, Bro. You're right!" Dirk joins in. You sigh loudly.

"They're kidding," you mutter to John. "It's an… inside joke." Bro breaks out laughing.

"You know Dirk, I think it's more of an _outside joke._ "

"Huh, Bro, you're right." He nods sagely, each of them keeping perfect poker faces.

"Shut up!" You scoff at them, huffing. They mean that the 'Dave' thing is an outside thing, but you think it's more of an inside thing. You hate that 'Dove' is the outside joke. You want 'Dove' to die. You turn down the hall and head to your room. John looks puzzled as he follows.

"What did they mean—,"

"Ignore everything they say." He just nods, moving on.

"So do your parents get home late, then?" You shake your head, flopping down on your bed.

"No, I never knew either of my parents. I don't even remember them. My dad died in an accident a few days after I was born and my mom got a sickness right after Bro turned nineteen. They kind of raised me, and while I wish I could say they did a shitty job, I think I turned out pretty awesome." John is silent, so you give him a smirk. "It's cool man, they're cooler than parents a lot of the time." You hate to admit that you're actually loving this. You're here, with a friend. You're with a _boy,_ because he thinks you're a _boy._ You can say things like 'man' and no one will think it's weird. It feels great being Dave because that's who you're _meant to be._

You and John end up messing around on video game consoles until dinner when you order pizza. Around eight John returns home and you fall back on the couch. Bro walks by, ruffling your hair.

"He seems like an okay kid."

"Yeah," You agree. "He is."


	5. Act Two, Part Three

Your apartment is a little larger than your last one. When you open the door you're in the living room area and the kitchen is a little ways back. Past the kitchen is another open space that leads to a hallway with four doors. You choose the last room down the hall and push open the door. All the walls are pale white and the carpet is a light cream. You'll ask about painting the walls. You place your bag on the bed, which was already moved here with the rest of your furniture. It's all just cluttered around the center, though. You get started moving everything around. Your boxes will be here in a few days, so you have just enough room to maneuver everything. Your desk and computer go by the window, your bed against the wall, your dresser by the bed, posters on the wall. There's a large empty space but you figure you'll fill that up somehow. You exit your room, opening the fridge and finding it empty. You frown at this, walking into the living room. Dirk is hooking up the TV.

"Dirk I'm taking your money." You tell him, shrugging on a coat.

"Why?"

"We don't have any food." Dirk look up.

"Shit, yeah. I'll text you a list of stuff to get, okay?" He hands you a fifty and pushes you out the door. You huff, used to them kicking you out when they didn't want you in the way. You set out down the sidewalk once you're outside and you try to carefully remember the way that you go. You don't know where anything is, so you just mindlessly walk down the street. You end up at a park, and decide to just sit on a bench and pull up directions. You pull out your phone, pulling up a Google Maps app. Someone sits on the bench next to you and you look up. A boy with black frames is sitting next to you. He has messy black hair and bright blue eyes. You glance away when he looks up.

"Hey," he greets you.

"Hey." You murmur back, but you aren't sure why. Since when do you talk to people you've never met? You aren't trying to be polite, that's for fucking sure.

"Are you lost?" He notices the app you've pulled up. You shrug.

"No. We just moved here today and I went out to go get some food cause we don't have any and then I realized I have no fucking idea where to get food around here." Why are you still talking to him? Why are you actually giving him a real answer?

"There's a Walgreens a little way away from here. I could give you directions if you want?" You nod your head, grateful but not showing it. He pulls out a piece of paper from a notebook he had in the bag over his shoulder and begins to scrawl directions on it, still conversing with you.

"You look about my age. Are you starting school here soon?" You nod again. "Where are you going?"

"Skaia… you?" He nods, grinning.

"That's my school! Ha, now you already have one friend, huh?" You blink. You've just made a friend? You don't recall ever doing that before. You shrug.

"Yeah." He hands you the paper, still smiling.

"So I'll see you soon, then." He pauses, his eyes lighting up. "My name is John, by the way."

"Dave." You feel a burst of happiness when you say that. You've never introduced yourself as Dave before. He grins once more, standing up.

"Nice to meet you, Dave!" You nod to him, standing up as you continue on your way, using the directions John gave you as guide.

When you open the door using your foot (because you're kind of weighed down with a lot of bags) it bangs into the wall and you cautiously hope you didn't already dent the wall.

You set the bags down, breathing out a sigh.

"Did you bring food, Dave?" Dirk asks from the couch, the TV set up. You don't reply, but dig through and grab a bunch of plastic cups and a thing of apple juice. You pour it into the cup and leave the groceries for your brothers, going to your room. You flop down on your bed, wishing you had wifi. You kind of wish you had anyone you could talk to from before you moved, but you don't even have anyone you could miss. You've never had anyone but you're brothers, you've never really made a friend. You've—no, wait. You have made a friend. John said he was your friend, right? There, that's one. It's already a new start. You make your way back into the living room but decide instead to see what they did while you were gone. The room next to yours is the bathroom, which is basically already set up. The next, which is across from yours, is Dirk's room. He hasn't even gotten started on it yet. The last is obviously Bro's, and the only thing he has even touched is his turntables, which sit ready to go. The room at the end of the hallway has been turned into kind of an extra living room. It's the only room with a fireplace so there's one couch on the wall by it. You're probably going to get another couch or two. In the front room Dirk's moved from the couch. The TV is set up and playing some news channel. The black leather couch is in front of it, the blanket draped over the back as always. There's a round chair in the corner of the room, game consoles randomly scattered about in front of it. The kitchen is empty with the exception of the paper plates and plastic cups you got and the food in the fridge. You notice that in the living room there's an ironic painting hung up. The painting itself is completely normal, just an abstract brown and white theme, which is what makes it ironic. There's a matching one on the wall opposite of it. You lean against the counter in the kitchen.

 _Dave Strider._ You try out the name on your tongue just like when you picked the name. You watch Bro threaten to strife Dirk from the front room and you let yourself smile when you're sure neither of them is watching.


	6. Act Two, Part Four

You stay home all the next day. Dirk goes to work and while you sit on the couch you can hear Bro doing _his_ job on the computer the living room. You let the TV play in front of you but you aren't really watching. You aren't wearing your binder because you forgot to take if off last night and Bro found out so you're completely curled into the blankets. Your laptop is warm on your legs and you're staring at that screen blankly as well. The fridge opens and you glance up at Bro for a minute before returning your gaze to your laptop. It's only about two minutes since school got out, so you're confused as to why your Pesterchum is flashing at you.

EB: Hey Dave? You aren't at school today and I think I know why… um, you didn't have to run off like that I guess, I understand that you probably didn't want anyone figuring that out but it's not like I hate you or you should avoid me. We're still friends, obviously, and I'm not gonna tell anyone so… it's all cool with me, just so you know.

You don't know what to say to that so you just shut your laptop. There is now a glass of apple juice sitting next to you, you notice. You look up but Bro is already back to the living room to make more puppet porn. You stand up and walk to your room, tugging on a binder and getting dressed. You walk to the front door and grab your jacket, turning around. You walk into the living room where Bro is still at the computer.

"Bro." He glances up briefly. "I'm going to talk to John." He flashes you a grin and nods, ruffling your hair. You swat his hand away, shrugging on your coat and walking out the front door.

You're standing in front of John's door. Your mind is screaming not to knock but your hand is already rapping shortly on his door. It opens a moment later and John is there, looking faintly tired but waking up when he sees you.

"Dave—," he starts, but you interrupt him.

"It's cool." You say matter-of-factly. "I flipped my shit and that wasn't cool, but you yourself are hella cool still." John blinks.

"It's cool? You're okay, I mean? You did kind of flip and I've been really worried." You shrug.

"Yeah. It's fine. I'm fine. I just guess I was worried that… I was worried about things I didn't need to be worried about because for a minute I guess I forgot that you're different."

"Different?"

"Yeah. Um, in a good way, man. Sappy shit and all aside I guess I mean it's kind of obvious that you're not like the rest of the fuckers in this world. I told you earlier that we moved here because of my bro's job and I guess it's true that we only were able _to_ move here because of his job but… that's really not _why,_ " he's still watching you with full attention so you continue slowly. "The reason why is something that I figure that you and the rest of the goddamn world will figure out eventually so it's probably better that I tell you now and get it over with—,"

"Dave," John interrupts. "Just say it." You take a deep breath in, deciding whether or not you really want to tell him.

"I'm trans," you say slowly.

"I… alright," John stared at you. You blink, wondering if he heard you.

"Alright? That's it?"

"Well, yeah, I guess," John replied, opening the door wider so that you would come in. "That's it, I guess. One of my other friends is trans, too, so I understand it enough. So… yeah. That's it. Alright. As for… the reason that you left so quickly earlier…" You do step in and he shuts the door behind you.

"That's all there is to it." You say firmly, and he seems to get that you don't want to talk about it because he just shrugs and asks if you want to watch a movie. When you agree and he turns around you wonder to yourself _what you did to deserve John?_

John decides on Con-Air, which is his favorite movie. He basically flips his shit when you tell him that you have not, in fact, seen it before. So he goes and makes popcorn and mixes things into it. You both sit on the couch and eat the whole bowl before the movie's even halfway over. When the movie does end and you say your goodbyes (and you thank John, even though he says you have nothing to thank him for) you put your coat back on and give him a short wave before making the trek back to your apartment.

When you return and Bro turns around to greet you, he doesn't even have to ask how it went because you're suppressing a grin.

"Hey, Bro." He ruffles your hair again before turning back around and you punch him in reply.

"So it went well, then," Bro said. You just nod, opening the fridge.

"Yeah. I didn't actually explain anything but I told him about… everything. Kind of. I guess he's cool with it. I'm not telling anyone else, though."

"What about your other friends?" Bro asks, still typing away. "You do have other friends, right?"

" _Yes,_ I have other friends." Dave lied. It wasn't a complete lie though, he did meet some nice kids who could be potential friends. "I met them through John and they all seem perfectly fine to me." Dirk walked in, nodding a greeting.\

"How did you meet John?" He asks. You feel like you're on a game show. It's ridiculous.

"I met him when I went to go get food the day we moved here. I was pretty much hella lost and we talked for a while and he told me where to go to buy food and shit. We figured out that we went to the same school and on the first day he called me over and we talked. It was casual."

"Casual," Bro said, amused. "Since when do you say casual?"

"Since I became classier than you assholes!" You mutter, grabbing a cold slice of pizza and stuffing the end in your mouth, escaping to your room. You shut the door behind you and slide into the chair in front of your computer. You open it up, typing in your password and letting it load. Your Pesterchum is flashing with unread messages that you open. You check the first one and see that it's someone you used to talk to back in Texas. You weren't completely friends, but the kid didn't hate you. You close the tab, checking the next message. You don't even read it. The username, cyanideRepose, is Luke's. You feel a lump in your throat as you close the tab and shut off your computer once more. You pull out an assignment to work on instead.


	7. Act Two, Part Five

You sleep in the next morning, not even bothering with your hair and just shoving on some clothes and darting out the door, flipping off Bro when you hear him laughing smugly from the kitchen. You practically run over three kids on your way there, mumbling apologies to the parents but not slowing down. You get to school with a total of thirty seconds to spare, leaning against the locker and breathing heavily. Someone bowls into you and you swear loudly, trying not to fall over.

"Dave!" John's voice calls perkily. _It's too early for anyone to sound that awake._

"What?" You mumble, still out of breath.

"Are you free on Sunday?" You shrug, straightening up and pulling out your phone to check.

"Yeah. Why?" John reaches into his backpack, pulling out a slightly tattered piece of paper resembling a ticket.

"Because I have my piano recital that day and I want you to come."

You accept the ticket, folding it up so that you could slide it into your pocket. "Yeah, alright. Why though?"

"Why what? Why do I want you to come? Because it's important and I'll probably die of anxiety if you don't, and I just want you to be there." John replies, shrugging.

"Yeah," you agree, starting to walk to your first period class. "I'll be there."

You sit through school for the entire day, bored out of your mind. Minutes drag by and you occupy yourself by counting the clock. Your mind is in rhythm with the clock and you let your mind count to sixty twenty times before the bell finally rings and you stand up, your chair loudly screeching as you did so, and go back to your locker for your things. You sling your bag over your shoulder and put in your earbuds as you start walking home. You take the long way, appreciating the warm breeze that ruffles your hair. There's a coffee shop on your way home and you can smell the warm drinks from inside, the whole area smelling like hazel and caramel. You appreciate this as well, walking past one of the busier roads and crossing it. There's a long bridge that leads you home, arching high over a lake. Cars rush past as you walk along the sidewalk on the side of the bridge, watching them go by. You turn your head to look out at the water, staring down into it. Your first thought is to step further away from the bars preventing you from falling in. Your second reaction is to move _back_ to look down at the water again. Your third reaction is your mind deciding that it wouldn't mind falling all the way down there, hitting the water and never coming back up. Staying down there forever.

But… you're not going to.

You continue walking, a depressing aura over your thoughts now. Overall that in itself is confusing enough. You shouldn't be _thinking_ like this anymore. You moved, you got your brothers support and you have _friends_ and everything here is great. You should be totally against falling off a bridge and dying or getting hit by a car, not debating slipping through the bars or in front of the cars that rush past. You could probably shrug it off too if you didn't think the same thing every time you took this way home. If you're being honest with yourself today is a pretty cold day, even if there's a warm breeze here and there, and it's muggy and cloudy and it's probably going to rain. You're pretty sure that you're just coming this way for the bridge at this point.

You wouldn't ever jump though. You wouldn't do that. They're just thoughts and they can't hurt you.

So you just keep walking home in a somewhat subdued manner and enter the apartment building, taking the elevator up to the top. When you get out though, you don't walk to your apartment. You really don't feel like it. So you wander the top floor. You manage to find a door to the roof, pushing it open and walking out. There's a light drizzle coming down and you let your hair fall in your face as it becomes wet. You stood and stare for a little while. It was so _tall,_ the apartment building. You could see so far, the sky was still gray and it was even muggier up here, but you didn't mind.

You crept to the edge, sliding down onto your stomach so you could hesitantly peer over the edge. Your breath gets sucked out of you and you scramble back because _you're on the fortieth floor and fuck this is really high up and there's a street below you and if you sneezed you could actually die and you don't want to die because you sneezed._

So of course you crawl back over to look down again because this is honestly kind of the fun of it, the fear. You swing one leg over the edge cautiously, gripping the edge. Your other leg joins it and your legs are both dangling off the edge. You stare down at the people below and they're all so little below your feet. You swing your legs a little bit and pull out your earbuds, letting the sound of rain beating down fill your ears. The rain picks up and you see lightning a little ways off. You're busy watching the city light up more and more as the sky darkens enough to make the world less visible until they light it up all around with signs and lights strewn around roofs and windows. You think you like the city more at night.

The rain is still beating down and there's thunder, off in the distance, but you're fine with it. Your clothes are all soaked, too, and you're pretty high up to be sitting outside in a storm. You're fine with that, too, though.

You just sit in the storm and watch at it gets progressively worse, wind picking up and blowing your clothes and hair around. You draw back from the edge, though, and sit towards the middle of the roof. You sit and wonder idly if tornados can hit in New York while the rain pelts down on you. You close your eyes and let the wind ruffle you while the storm continues to rage around you.

The door to the roof opens and you peel your eyes back open, turning around to see a kid with tousled black hair and a black hoodie staring at you. His eyes are gray and he's got this incredulous look on his face, like he honestly can't believe that there's a kid out here in the rain and on the roof of a forty story building. He's here too, though, so it can't be that weird.

You don't say anything as he leaves the awning and joins you in the rain, which instantly soaks him and makes his hair fall into his eyes and his sweater stick to his skin. He stares out over the city before sitting down by you.

"Hey." He says, tucking his hands in his pockets. You admire how he says it so casually, like he always meets kids on the roof in storms.

Maybe he does.

"Sup?" You greet back, as if you, too, always meet people forty floors up on the roof in a storm.

"It's raining pretty fucking hard," he says, still playing off the casualness still.

"Yeah." You reply, looking over at him. His hair had curled a little bit, the ends curling around his ears and the nape of his neck. He really did need a haircut.

Your phone sets off a song by Marianas Trench and you know that it's one of your brothers calling. He seems to catch wind of the unspoken word that you've got to go, too, because he just glances over and gives you a slight nod as you stand up. You start to walk to the door again, complimenting how curly his hair is wet. He replies with a "fuck off," eyes staying wherever it was that he was looking. You watch his small frame for a moment before turning and shutting the door, walking back to your apartment. You grab your keys from your pocket, unlocking your apartment door and waltzing in as if you weren't three hours late and as if it wasn't six at night and as if you weren't freezing cold and soaked. Dirk looks up from the couch where he's playing some dumb video game.

"Yo," he greets you, looking back at the game. "You're toast." Your roll your eyes, but try to sneak back to your room unnoticed all the same.

Too late, Bro's coming out of his room and you've been caught.

"Where the fuck were you?" He asks, seeming mildly pissed.

"I was out." You shrug, pretty sure that you weren't allowed on the roof and not wanting to lose your new hiding place. He rolls his eyes at you.

"You were out? Out where—why are you _soaked_? It's six at night, Dave, and you're soaked." You give him a defiant look and he just huffs, telling you to go and change. You do, going and shrugging on dry clothes and going into the kitchen to grab something to eat. Your hair drips on the ground and you let it, grabbing a cup of hot chocolate and sticking it in the microwave. You go and sit on the couch by your older brother who just rolls his eyes, still playing his video game. "He babies you," he mumbled, but you know he's not really mad. "He wouldn't have let me off the hook that easy."

"It's cause I'm his favorite." You reply, leaning on your brother's shoulder, ironically of course, and telling him that he sucked at video games as he died for the tenth time since you sat down. He punched your shoulder, rolling his eyes again.


	8. Act Two, Part Six

You narrowly avoid getting grounded by having a cold. You woke up feeling like shit and regretting not drying your hair before going to bed. You try to go back to sleep but are prevented from doing so with a giant sneeze, followed by some hacking. You shove your face in your pillow and let yourself be occupied with feeling like shit. Your alarm clock for school goes off again and you practically punch it. Bro is yelling at you to get up and you would punch him too, if that didn't mean getting up. Eventually he opens your door and throws something at you and you try to tell him to fuck off, but end up just emitting a raspy noise. He throws something else at you and you sit up and glare at him. You must look pretty sick, too, because he rolls his eyes and disappears. He returns a minute or two later with a cup of water and an aspirin, handing them to you. You manage to practically choke on the water when you swallow it at the same time that you cough, but at this point it's also pretty obvious that you don't have to go to school so you just curl back up in bed and feel like dying.

Dirk seems to be getting a kick out of it, though, because he comes in and jumps on your bed a few minutes later, jostling you. You huff, kicking him. You lift your face up again to look at him, scowling at his smirk.

"Is someone _sick?_ " He teases you. "And why is that? Is it because you were out in the rain yesterday? Is it because you didn't come home right away like Davey was supposed to?" You kick him again, huffing. "No but seriously," he says. "Where were you?" You roll your eyes at him, sitting up when you realized that he wouldn't leave you alone.

"I was out." You rasp, glaring at him.

"But _where?"_ He pries. "Were you with a… guy? Do you like guys? I'm assuming you like guys. Were you with a guy?"

" _No,_ I was just walking home from school." You argue, coughing. You pause, thinking about the bridge again. You think about your wanting to just fall. You think about the cars and the roof and how sometimes you just want to _jump._ Sometimes you just want to fall, which didn't make any _sense_ and it _scared you._

"Dirk," you mumble, your face turning serious. "Sometimes when I walk home I take the long way." He looks confused so you keep talking. "I take the long way because there's this bridge and it's tall and there's this big river under it and it goes so high up and it's really cool. But-but sometimes when I walk across it I think- I think maybe I wouldn't mind if I tripped walking on that bridge and fell off. Sometimes I think maybe I wouldn't mind not looking when I cross a road and getting hit and-and not being okay. And I don't want to think like that because it's really fucking creepy and I think that maybe sometimes I want to listen but I _don't_. _"_ Dirk is staring at you with a blank look on his face.

"You didn't like, start hurting yourself again did you?" He asks, sitting up. You shake your head slowly, watching him closely. He watches you doubtfully.

"I don't know, maybe you should talk to Bro about this—,"

"No," You hiss, glaring at him again. "You can't tell Bro."

"Dave," Dirk interrupted you. "You really do have to tell Bro. He's like, an adult. And I can't stop that, and maybe you need a therapist or some shit and I don't want you to get hurt by keeping this just between us. Bro has to know." You frowned at him, sighing heavily.

"I'm already fucked up," you mumble softly. "And I don't want him knowing." Dirk frowned.

"You're not fucked up."

"No, okay, I know I am." You snap and you both seem to remember that you're not really known for heart-to-hearts.

"You're just figuring things out," Dirk told you calmly, tousling your hair. "You can do it, kid." You huff again, burying your face in your mound of pillows.

"Yeah," you mumble all the same. "Okay." He gives your shoulder one of his awkward pats and leaves your room again. You silently wish that Bro wouldn't find out, but you knew that Dirk would tell him.

You focus on being sick for now, though, and dabble in the arts of feeling sorry for yourself. You feel achingly hot, but the minute you shove the covers off you're freezing. You decide you'd rather be hot, though, and end up dragging the blankets back over you.

You spend the next several hours on your laptop, trying not to sneeze on it. Bro comes in several times before he leaves for work and Dirk goes off some place to do whatever it was that Dirk did in his free time. So you were home alone, buried in your own woes and tissues.

You carted your quilt into the living room, settling down in front of the TV. There's not really anything on, but you settle for some show that you used to be really into. You consider getting something to eat, but you really don't want to stand up and you're not hungry so you just stay where you are. You manage to fall asleep after a little while and wake up to your phone ringing from the coffee table. Of course you don't answer it, though, because you're really not in the mood for actually talking to human beings at the moment.

You let voicemail deal with it and try to go back to sleep. This is New York, though, and that means lots of noise, which means no sleep for poor little you.

You settle now for standing up and grabbing your coat. As if New York wasn't already cold enough, you were sick currently and freezing. But you're home alone and you're not going to pass that up.

So you shrug on the coat, grab your keys and set out into the hall, climbing a flight of steps and shove open the door to the roof. It's not raining anymore, that stopped last night around twelve, but the roof is still wet and it's windy. The wind blows your hair in your face and you stick your hands in your pockets.

You walk to the edge and sit down again, swinging your legs back and forth. You make a mental note that you left your phone inside. You really don't care. You'll be home alone until four, and when you last checked it was one. You've got a while.

You make sure to keep hold of the edge, just in case. You partake in watching the people below you again. They're so small down there, you can't even make out their faces. A little girl is running after a dog, she's got a dress on and the wind is blowing it as she runs. There's a couple on a bench across the street and they're sharing coffee, laughing about something, you think. There's a kid in a black jacket walking into your apartment building.

You idly wonder if this is illegal and decide that you don't care. If anything it's probably ironic to break the law somehow. Mostly it's ironic that you don't care if you break the law, even though you aren't sure if this is technically illegal.

You let your gaze travel across all the streets that you can see. New York seems to go on forever. You can see the park where you met John from here, you can see your school, you can see the store. You can see the bridge, you can even make out the coffee shop because of it's the only store to have a bright green door. It's like you can see your whole world up here.

You hear a door bang open behind you again. You ignore it, but tear your gaze away from the city anyways.

"Hey, fuckass, is this going to be a normal thing for you? Because I come up here to be alone. And this is most definitely not alone." It's the kid from last night again.

"You seem friendly." You comment. You shift so that your legs are on solid ground again and not dangling forty floors away from solid ground.

"And you seem stupid. Is sitting like that really so smart?" He asks, quirking an eyebrow up. You find yourself studying his gray eyes.

"Mmm… no. But that's kind of the point, you know?" You reply, turning back around. He's wearing a black jacket.

"No. I don't know, because I'm not stupid."

"Well the point is to let your feet hang off _because_ you could fall. That's the fun of it, it's dangerous," you shrug, going back to studying the people. "You come up on the roof to be alone?" The kid shrugs, sitting a little ways back.

"Yeah. Because no one's ever come on the roof before but me so it works, usually. Now you're here though," he made a face. "So fuck off, please." You couldn't help but smirk slightly.

"I think I'm good here." You watch him roll his eyes.

"Fine. If this is going to be a regular thing, then my name is Karkat."

"Karkat? That's not a name you hear a lot. My name's Dave, though." You reply, turning around to look at him.

"Oh, I heard about you. From John, we go to school together. I was gone the first few weeks so I'll start in a couple of days on Monday." He replies, seeming content with making idle chatter with you. You guess you're fine with talking to him, too.


	9. Act Three, Part One

You'd gone back inside after an hour or two of talking to Karkat. He'd been nice enough, but he'd had an interesting temper and tended to rant. You were fine with sharing the roof with him, though. He was an interesting kid, but not bad.

You were going to John's around four, leaving you with several hours to kill before then. Bro would be at work for a couple of hours, leaving you home alone with Dirk as well. He'd set out to pester you the whole time, mocking you about your lingering illness, still trying to get you to tell him where'd you'd been that night. You had persisted just as well, not telling him. It wasn't that you didn't want him to know, you could honestly care less. You just enjoyed watching him get all irritated.

"Dave _tell me._ " He practically pleads, tackling you to the floor and keeping you pinned down.

"Fuck off, this is bullying." You shoot back, squirming to try to get away.

"You're just so _small_. _"_ He pretends to coo, patting your cheek. You punch him as hard as you can and he rolls off of you, throwing an empty water bottle at you before giving up.

"I was on the roof." You tell him, sitting up. He looks over at you, raising an eyebrow. "I just wanted to see if I could actually go up. It was pretty fucking cool, though, so I decided to hang out up there for a bit. It was already raining and I was already wet and so I just decided to chill on the roof for a bit. I even met someone. That's all."

"You met someone?"

"Yeah. Just this kid—I didn't even catch his name. He doesn't wear color, either. Needs a haircut, too, but he was pretty chill." You watch your brother roll his eyes.

"Well, while you were off doing nothing with your life, I was actually doing something important." He slides you his laptop and you see a website pulled up. "I applied for a college. Figured, hey, if I get in that's great and if I don't that's fine, too. I never even considered going to college but… this one seems pretty damn close to perfect." You scroll through the website and admit to yourself that it looks like something that he would definitely apply to. It's got programs for almost everything he's interested in.

"College? This is… this is back in Texas." You say, looking up at him. "Would you be moving away then?"

"Well, yeah. Probably." You crinkle your eyebrows, staring at him. "Hey, don't look at me like that. We both knew that I wasn't going to live with you and Bro forever, neither are you. Besides, I might not even get in." He voice softens slightly. "I would still come back to visit, obviously. All the time." You shrug in response.

"Yeah, that's fine. Whatever." You shrug again, trying not to care. He studies you for a minute before getting up and ruffling your hair, going to his room. You make up your mind on what you're going to do, grabbing your keys and phone and setting off to check out the coffee shop on your way home from school. You remember being able to see the door from where you sat on top of the roof. It takes you about fifteen minutes to get there and you can see the bright green door and the lights that adorn the windows from all the way down the street. The scent of hazel greets your nose as you push open the door and you scan the menu. You settle for a normal coffee with mint in it, giving the girl behind the register a five. You think you remember her, from some place. You don't have a clue where, though, so you don't say anything. She hands you the mug and you go and find a seat, pulling out your phone and messaging some of the people that you used to live by. John shoots you a text about that night and you both make plans for that night. You find yourself growing fond of the small coffee shop, making plans to go back. You place your mug on the counter and get up, walking home.

This is the point where you feel something in the pit of your stomach. _Something isn't right, something's wrong, something's going to happen, something something something._

The something is kids from your school, a whole bunch of them in groups by one of the restaurants, all there and laughing loudly outside. Your first option is to turn around and walk away. You figure you can't do that because there's a girl and she's just made eye contact with you. Her hair is black and she's got metal imbedded in her lips and her eyebrows and her ears. So you try and slink by them.

The result is you getting shoved against a wall in a rather violent way and the laughter to pause for a moment.

It bubbles up again after a minute, though, and this time it's at you. So there you are and there's a fierce pain shooting through your stomach and a burly kid is grabbing your shoulder. Someone sneers at you and the kid grabbing your shoulder seems to have realized that there's not just a _shirt_ here but something _under_ the shirt, because suddenly he grins slightly, yanking back the shirt so that your shoulder's exposed and oh hey look there's a binder there too and now they're all sneering names at you. _Tranny and femboy and fag and there's so many more._ Your breathing is loud and hard and you feel more pain bubble all around you and it's horrible. You're scared and you're upset and you want to go now. You want this to end, you want to run and hide like the wimp you are. They're all calling you she and you just want to _hide._

You tear yourself from their grip, stumbling partially as you take off running, as you take off running to go home.

The only way home is across that long, silver bridge. You make it about halfway before you skid to a halt. You feel blood dripping down your face, mingling with the tears that you let streak down your face.

You don't like where your thoughts are going. They're dark and cold, they're harsh and uninviting.

You hold your phone in slightly trembling hands and type in your passcode. 4-6-6-3.

Your phone is open to the conversation with John still and you send him a text with fingers trembling even harder now.

Message to: John John

Message to: John John

Message to: John John seriously come on answer

Message to: John its kind of important

Message to: John John please

You give up, letting your phone drop to the ground next to you, turning back to the crossroads presented to you currently.

The view is music to your ears. On the one hand, you've got that glistening river going miles and miles and miles down. On the other, you have cars roaring past. You first step towards the silver bars, one hand curling around one of them. You hear about people surviving the falls all the time, though. So you stumble in the other direction towards the cars. There's a never ending stream of them. You pause for a minute to wipe away the tears, sucking in a breath before darting out into the stream.

For one awful moment you think they're going to stop in time.

And then you feel the pain burst through you like electricity rippling through your body.

You're on the ground then and the world seems to stop with the traffic as everything stops and there's a scream and there's someone running towards you.

Their hand cups under your nose as you weakly breathe and they pull you up so that you're in their lap. They're trying to see if you're still alive. You smile weakly as you feel yourself growing less and less alive, though, and your world is tinted black around the edges.

You shut your eyes.

Their hoodie is soft.

It smells like hazel.


	10. Act Three, Part Two

_-Your name is Karkat Vantas. You work at East Village Café and you live in New York City. You've lived in New York your whole life. You know it like the back of your hand, you can name every street, every building. You like to go up on the roof. You like to be alone. Too bad for you some douche you'd never seen before found your hiding place and invaded it. Too bad for you he was a nice guy. Too bad for you, you were okay with him being up there with you._

 _Too bad for you he's dying in your arms.-_

Some days you hate working at the café. Some days you absolutely love it. You work there to make some money, for the most part. For the other part you work there because your two best friends work there, too. Terezi's dad owns the café, named after the little town in Iowa that she used to live in. Sollux has a burning passion for coffee. You just like how it smells.

You don't harbor any particular fondness for people, though, so you just make the coffee, lingering in the back of the shop and making whatever Terezi and Sollux yell at you to make. When it's empty you all entertain yourselves by making whatever nabs your interest that particular day. Hazel and mint and maybe some raspberry and whipped cream? You think you put that one on the menu, actually. Your concoction of lime, red velvet and cinnamon, however, didn't make the cut. You spend ten to fifteen hours at the café a week and see the same faces each day. Sollux is always coming up with wild plans to attract customers— _if we paint the door green and string lights up people will notice it no matter what time of day it is—_ and while you admit that that worked, you found the idea stupid and still have green paint staining one of your favorite sweaters.

You've learned the names of a lot of the people who come in there every day—and let's face it, most of your customers are just the people who stop in once a day.

The fact that you know most of the people in New York is probably the reason that you noticed the kid come in. What was his name? It was short, overused.

He had stayed near the door for a minute or two, calmly leaning against the wall. Outside you hear the obnoxious yells and laughter of the group of assholes who hung outside of the restaurant down the street. God, you just wanted to punch them some days. He eventually orders a coffee and sits down someplace towards the back. He seems like a fairly calm person, to you. Even on the roof, with his legs hanging thirty story up from any kind of solid ground he seemed just as calm as he does here.

Your shift is over at this point so you grab your keys and go to leave, stopped by Terezi grabbing your arm and dragging you upstairs, despite Sollux's loud protests at being left to run the shop alone. You follow her up the stairs and to her room. She disappears under her bed and drags out a small box. She pulls two bracelets from the box, shoving one in your hand with a smirk. It's just tightly woven pieces of red, blue and yellow threads, but you find yourself admiring the way it's been made so that all the colors twist together and it looks well-made.

"These are friendship bracelets," Terezi declares. "I have already given Sollux his. This one is for you. You have to wear it all the time, no matter what, and never take it off. Because we are obviously your best friends, right?" You roll your eyes, sliding the bracelet on your wrist anyways.

"Why are you making us do this, exactly?" You ask as she ties it tightly.

"Because we're _best friends,_ stupid. So you _have_ to wear it. And so does Sollux."

"Sollux isn't wearing any bracelets." You point out, pushing yours down to your wrist so that it's not cutting off your circulation.

"Yes he is. He put it around his ankle because apparently guys don't wear bracelets. You can do that too." Terezi replies, shoving the box under her bed.

"No I can't," you roll your eyes again, standing up. "It's kind of tied around my wrist in a permanent fucking knot." She shoves you out of her room and you both go back down. She goes back to taking orders and you go and gather your things. You notice that the boy from the roof is gone now.

You mess with the string on the bracelet as you push the door open, walking out and turning to walk back to your apartment building. The group of kids is in a tight circle, laughing wildly at something. At someone, judging by the things that they're snickering. You sneer at them as you pass and one of them breaks into hyena laughter as you keep walking.

The bridge is just as daunting as always. You're honestly not sure why you chose the _roof_ of all places for a hiding place, when you despise heights. The bridge is wide and arching, glinting at you when the light hits it just right, deviously as if it's winking at you evilly. Your eyes aren't trained on the water below, though, because they're trained on the commotion that's going on ahead of you. The cars have all stopped in one lane and there's people outside of their cars. Someone's been hit.

You keep walking by, trying not to look as you walk by and swallowing heavily.

You stop, then, because those red Converse are sickeningly familiar and when your head turned to look your feet came to a skidding halt.

It's him. He's on the ground and you can tell from here that he's barely breathing. He's got blood on his face, tears mingling in. You shove past someone without thinking, running over to him and grabbing his head and cupping your hand under his nose.

"Be alive, be alive, be alive." You beg, feeling the faint air on your hand and wiping away some of the blood from his face and pulling him into your lap. He stares at you and his face contorts into some sort of drunken grin as his eyes close. You're breathing heavily and the woman from before who screamed is still wide-eyed.

Someone's called 911, because there's sirens and people are clearing a path. Someone tries to tell you to hand him over but you just shake your head, clinging to him.

You don't _know_ him, you don't know his _name,_ you don't know where his family is or if he _has_ a family.

But you met him on the roof and he's not like everybody else.

He's different.

You don't want him to die.

Your name is Karkat Vantas. You work at East Village Café and you live in New York City. You've lived in New York your whole life. You know it like the back of your hand, you can name every street, every building. You like to go up on the roof. You like to be alone. Too bad for you some douche you'd never seen before found your hiding place and invaded it. Too bad for you he was a nice guy. Too bad for you, you were okay with him being up there with you.

Too bad for you he's dying in your arms.

"C'mon kid, you have to let him go so we can get him to the hospital." One of the paramedics tells you gently. You release him slowly, letting them take him.

"Are you family? A friend? Do you know him?" You nod slowly.

"Family." You whisper, not sure why. Actually, it's because they'll let you go to the hospital with him if he's family. You don't want him to be there alone.

Someone's talking to the lady who hit him and you can hear her voice, too sharp and too high for her to be relaxed about any of this, telling him in a fast tone that he jumped in front of the car.

You close your eyes tightly for a moment, feeling sick.

"You coming with us?"

You nod, climbing up and sitting with him, staring at the kid from the roof with a pained look. _Dave,_ you recall. _His name is Dave._

Dave looks mostly dead there, barely breathing and thin. They work on him and you clutch the seat tightly, eyes squeezed shut again.

They take him someplace when you get to the hospital and you're sent to the waiting room. You sit in one of the chairs, drawing your knees to your chest and sitting in silence. There's no one else there except for the receptionist. She looks up eventually.

"Karkat," she greets you. "You don't have an appointment today, do you? Just Wednesdays, I thought."

You shake your head. "A friend." You whisper. She gives you a sympathetic look, giving you the silence you want and going back to typing.

They contacted his real family, though, because at some point the door flies open and a tousled looking guy in a white t-shirt and jeans is standing there.

"My brother," he says in a rushed voice. "He's here. Dave Strider." She tells him that they're working on him right now, asking if Dave's parents are available.

"No, he doesn't have parents. Our older brother, he's Dave's legal guardian. He was at a work conference, he'll be here in fifteen minutes." The guys voice is tight with what sounds like panic. "What _happened_ to him? Why is he in the hospital?" The receptionist informs him that she doesn't know any details and you can see him growing more anxious. He mills around the waiting room until he notices you staring at him and you have a silent staring contest.

"You're here for Dave," he says. You nod, not removing your chin from your knees. "Did you come here with him? Do you know what happened to him?" You nod again.

"He… I found him… he- he got hit, someone said that he did it on purpose but I- I don't think he would- I mean…"

"You met him on the roof," he says, his voice small. The smallness doesn't seem to fit him.

"I'm Karkat," you reply in an equally small voice. He introduces himself as Dirk.

"You're his brother?" You ask, your eyes on the ground.

"Yeah," Dirk mumbled. "But I'm doing kind of a shitty job." You glance over at him as someone comes in the room and tells you that family can go and see him. Dirk's up on his feet in a moment, but pauses and looks at you, inclining his head towards the door slightly. You blink, standing up and following him past the door and through the halls. They're long and winding, and the nurse tells you to go to the east ward, giving you the room number. You can hear Dirk mumbling under his breath about how there must be thousands of rooms as you set off in the right direction. You wind through the halls, going to the critical care unit and towards the three hundreds, pausing outside the door and letting Dave's brother go in first to see Dave.

His hair is just as tousled as always and his breathing is soft. His sunglasses are folded up on the table and his eyelids are a soft white, eyelashes long.

He looks so pale.


	11. Act Three, Part Three

_-Your name is Dove Strider and—no, your name is_ _ **Dave Strider**_ _and everything hurts.—_

It hurts to breathe. It hurts to shift your hand. It hurts to try to listen to the voices, much less the beeping. It hurts to even think about prying your eyes open. So you're just lying there, thinking as you lie in the bed. You're not dead, that's one thing you realize right away. That's a horrible thing to realize, because remembering _why_ you tried to make yourself die hurts so much more. Everything hurts and aches and the memory makes you jolt up quickly and suck in a breath, tears flooding your face at the pain and the reminder that you're alive. Everything is so bright and cold and painful. There's a hand on your shoulder and your face is buried in their chest before you even know what you're doing. The hand runs through your hair. It's Dirk, you know because he always smells like mint and your house, mixed together.

"Dirk," you choke out, and he shushes you. You shake your head, pulling your face away to look at him, struggling to breathe. "Dirk," you repeat, struggling to make your voice sound right, sobbing. "I don't want to _do_ this anymore."

"Don't say that." A deep voice says. Your head swivels over to where Bro is leaning against the wall. Somewhere in the back of your head you take note of the kid from the roof there, silently in a chair, knees pulled to his chest.

"I don't," you say, begging, pleading for them to understand. "I don't want to, I don't want to, I don't want to."

"Dave—,"

"Hey, bud, calm down okay?" Dirk cuts off Bro, running his fingers through your hair again. "Calm down and we'll talk. Just take some deep breaths, okay? Just breathe, little bro."

So you focus on taking deep gulping breaths for a few minutes until you're shivering slightly but breathing fine and thinking a little more clearly. You fall quiet, accepting your shades from Dirk and sliding them on.

You turn to Dirk again after a moment. "I'm never going to school again," you say simply. You watch one of his eyebrows raise.

"So it's because of school, then?"

You shake your head. " _No._ But now everyone at school's going to _know._ "

"Know? Know what— _Oh._ How could they possibly know that, Dave?" He asks, and you tense up slightly, which Dirk seems to see because he ruffles your hair and tells you that you don't have to talk about it. Instead, he sits down on the bed next to you, making himself comfortable. "Next up on the agenda—okay, hospital food? Everyone's always like, ew, gross, hospital food but. I assumed that was just like, some strange stereotype. _Nope,_ hospital food is hella bad."'

"Is it?

"It is," Bro chimes in, and oh look you're all successfully avoiding the subject at hand and the kid sitting in the chair right next to you. What is he even _doing_ here, anyways? "It's worse than the food from your first elementary school. You remember that food right? When you were in third grade you tried to start a protest when they taught you about that kind of shit, like Martin Luther King Jr. and shit. You didn't make it very far, but the point is the food is bad."

You're considerably calmed down, and at this point you make eye contact with the kid, Karkat, unintentionally. You don't even know what he's doing there.

But your brothers seem to sense that you've made that awkward eye contact, because Dirk stands up.

"I'm getting coffee. Just rest, okay?" You watch him leave, face twisting slightly when the door shuts behind him.

"Is he really leaving?" You ask. Bro seems confused by the question, so you rephrase it. "Is he really going to go to college in Texas? He's just gonna leave?" Bro watches you quietly for a minute.

"Yeah, Dave, probably. He graduated, little man, that means he's gotta go off and do his own things with his life. That's how it works. It's not like he won't ever visit." You just shrug and Bro glances at the door. "I'm gonna go with him, though. To get coffee, I mean. Be back in a few."

And he disappears, too.

So now it's just you and Karkat. He's watching you quietly and you aren't sure what to say to him. So you just say the first thing you think of.

"What..?"

"You jumped in front of a goddamn car," Karkat snapped, lifting his head up. You squint at him from behind your shades.

"How would _you_ know?"

"Because I'm the one who got your miserable ass here!"

"I hope you don't expect me to thank you," you snap back, voice tightening. "I didn't jump in front of that car on accident!"

"Why the hell would you do that? Why the actual fucking hell would you do that? What is the _point_ in doing that?"

"Because I don't want to do this anymore!" You snap again. "I hate it! I hate it I hate it I hate it I hate it!" You repeat the mantra in a shaky voice that raises and he's glaring at you fiercely now.

"That doesn't mean you go and off yourself, asshole! God, why would you _do_ that? You've got people who care for you, you sniveling prick! How can you not fucking see that? Is your pedestal fun, sitting up there and thinking that you don't have a single goddamn reason to stay on this miserable planet when you've got people who obviously _care_ about you? Is that it? Because let me tell you something, _sir_ , you do. So _tell_ me, seriously, I'm so fucking _intrigued_ as to why the hell you would jump in front of a car you _miserable asshole._ "

That is indeed the question, now isn't it? You're wondering that right now yourself, you're wondering indeed what's so awful about any of this. You know a lot of people would kill to be in the situation you're in, with two accepting brothers who obviously care about you and accept you and let you be the person that you so terribly want to be. You don't have a _reason_ to be sad… so why are you?"

"I don't know." You tell him flatly, which seems to make him explode with more insults like 'sniveling prick' so you cut him off quickly and continue. "I don't know, I don't have a reason, if anything I should probably be a pretty happy person so I don't _know_ why I'm not. There's just something wrong with me and I don't know what. I don't know _why_ I want to go fall off a bridge instead of walking the rest of the way home to people who care about me and a nice place to live and a good life and everything like that. I don't _know_ why I'm always _so fucking sad all the time._ "

He doesn't seem to know what to say to this either, so you both continue to sit in somewhat awkward silence for a moment before the door swings back open and your brothers show up again. Dirk sets something down on the table next to you, probably not coffee, but you don't bother looking over to see what it is. You take a breath and look down at your arm and see an IV in it for the first time. The soft beeps are still there and although you're anything but happy to still be able to hear that beeping in your ears, but for now you think you're willing to at least try and find a moment when you will be happy with it.

Karkat stands up and looks at you, giving you a long look so that you know that the conversation isn't over. You notice for what isn't the first time how pale and thin he is, how dark the bags under his eyes are. "I go to your school," he tells you in a tired voice. "Just thought I would point that out. I was gone for the first part of the semester, but I hang out with John and the rest of those losers. I don't know when to expect you at school again, but I'll tell you two things and you damn well better listen to them. You better show back up at school sometime and you better show up at John's piano recital. So I'll see you there, then."

You watch the door swing shut behind him and sink further down in the bed. Now that he's gone you're really going to get grilled and you know it.

"Dave." No, you think for now you'll just pretend not to hear them.

"Dave." Is that a window to your left? Woah, what the _fuck_ it is indeed a window! Would you look at the fine work they put into that brick wall that you see? And seriously, wow, look at the wing-work on that bird flying by right now!

"Dave Elizabeth Strider."

"My middle name isn't—," Dammit, you're fraternizing with the enemy. You begrudgingly look over at them and see that they're serious now and you want to shrink down into the bed and into the ground and straight down into the Earth. "I'm sorry," you whisper in a small voice. You're not sorry for trying, but you're sorry for hurting them like that.

Dirk leans against the wall and lets Bro take over, since he's probably the one who knows what he's talking about.

"You can't do that again," he starts, then pauses. "Seriously. Don't you dare even try. I just want to ask you one question, and we'll leave you alone for now about it. But you have to answer me and I want you to answer it with the truth, don't give me bullshit about this, alright? I just want to know _why,_ Dave."

"I don't know," you practically whimper because _damn you sound like a girl right now and you think you might cry in a second_ but for now you just look him in the eye and he sighs really heavily and nods.

"Well… this is going to end, alright? This depression thing. We'll figure this out, alright? We'll figure this all out somehow."

You don't know exactly how he expects you to do that, but you assume that he means therapy and other forms of help, as well as people constantly watching you like a hawk. If that's what it takes, though, then maybe you're okay with that until you're okay with living.


	12. Act Three, Part Four

**A/N: HOLY SHIT I JUST UPLOADED 12 CHAPTERS IN THIRTY MINUTES. Oh god I'm sorry to anyone who might have just gotten twelve notifications in a row. -TK**

 _-Your name is Dove Strider and—no, your name is_ _ **Dave Strider**_ _and everything hurts.—_

It hurts to breathe. It hurts to shift your hand. It hurts to try to listen to the voices, much less the beeping. It hurts to even think about prying your eyes open. So you're just lying there, thinking as you lie in the bed. You're not dead, that's one thing you realize right away. That's a horrible thing to realize, because remembering _why_ you tried to make yourself die hurts so much more. Everything hurts and aches and the memory makes you jolt up quickly and suck in a breath, tears flooding your face at the pain and the reminder that you're alive. Everything is so bright and cold and painful. There's a hand on your shoulder and your face is buried in their chest before you even know what you're doing. The hand runs through your hair. It's Dirk, you know because he always smells like mint and your house, mixed together.

"Dirk," you choke out, and he shushes you. You shake your head, pulling your face away to look at him, struggling to breathe. "Dirk," you repeat, struggling to make your voice sound right, sobbing. "I don't want to _do_ this anymore."

"Don't say that." A deep voice says. Your head swivels over to where Bro is leaning against the wall. Somewhere in the back of your head you take note of the kid from the roof there, silently in a chair, knees pulled to his chest.

"I don't," you say, begging, pleading for them to understand. "I don't want to, I don't want to, I don't want to."

"Dave—,"

"Hey, bud, calm down okay?" Dirk cuts off Bro, running his fingers through your hair again. "Calm down and we'll talk. Just take some deep breaths, okay? Just breathe, little bro."

So you focus on taking deep gulping breaths for a few minutes until you're shivering slightly but breathing fine and thinking a little more clearly. You fall quiet, accepting your shades from Dirk and sliding them on.

You turn to Dirk again after a moment. "I'm never going to school again," you say simply. You watch one of his eyebrows raise.

"So it's because of school, then?"

You shake your head. " _No._ But now everyone at school's going to _know._ "

"Know? Know what— _Oh._ How could they possibly know that, Dave?" He asks, and you tense up slightly, which Dirk seems to see because he ruffles your hair and tells you that you don't have to talk about it. Instead, he sits down on the bed next to you, making himself comfortable. "Next up on the agenda—okay, hospital food? Everyone's always like, ew, gross, hospital food but. I assumed that was just like, some strange stereotype. _Nope,_ hospital food is hella bad."'

"Is it?

"It is," Bro chimes in, and oh look you're all successfully avoiding the subject at hand and the kid sitting in the chair right next to you. What is he even _doing_ here, anyways? "It's worse than the food from your first elementary school. You remember that food right? When you were in third grade you tried to start a protest when they taught you about that kind of shit, like Martin Luther King Jr. and shit. You didn't make it very far, but the point is the food is bad."

You're considerably calmed down, and at this point you make eye contact with the kid, Karkat, unintentionally. You don't even know what he's doing there.

But your brothers seem to sense that you've made that awkward eye contact, because Dirk stands up.

"I'm getting coffee. Just rest, okay?" You watch him leave, face twisting slightly when the door shuts behind him.

"Is he really leaving?" You ask. Bro seems confused by the question, so you rephrase it. "Is he really going to go to college in Texas? He's just gonna leave?" Bro watches you quietly for a minute.

"Yeah, Dave, probably. He graduated, little man, that means he's gotta go off and do his own things with his life. That's how it works. It's not like he won't ever visit." You just shrug and Bro glances at the door. "I'm gonna go with him, though. To get coffee, I mean. Be back in a few."

And he disappears, too.

So now it's just you and Karkat. He's watching you quietly and you aren't sure what to say to him. So you just say the first thing you think of.

"What..?"

"You jumped in front of a goddamn car," Karkat snapped, lifting his head up. You squint at him from behind your shades.

"How would _you_ know?"

"Because I'm the one who got your miserable ass here!"

"I hope you don't expect me to thank you," you snap back, voice tightening. "I didn't jump in front of that car on accident!"

"Why the hell would you do that? Why the actual fucking hell would you do that? What is the _point_ in doing that?"

"Because I don't want to do this anymore!" You snap again. "I hate it! I hate it I hate it I hate it I hate it!" You repeat the mantra in a shaky voice that raises and he's glaring at you fiercely now.

"That doesn't mean you go and off yourself, asshole! God, why would you _do_ that? You've got people who care for you, you sniveling prick! How can you not fucking see that? Is your pedestal fun, sitting up there and thinking that you don't have a single goddamn reason to stay on this miserable planet when you've got people who obviously _care_ about you? Is that it? Because let me tell you something, _sir_ , you do. So _tell_ me, seriously, I'm so fucking _intrigued_ as to why the hell you would jump in front of a car you _miserable asshole._ "

That is indeed the question, now isn't it? You're wondering that right now yourself, you're wondering indeed what's so awful about any of this. You know a lot of people would kill to be in the situation you're in, with two accepting brothers who obviously care about you and accept you and let you be the person that you so terribly want to be. You don't have a _reason_ to be sad… so why are you?"

"I don't know." You tell him flatly, which seems to make him explode with more insults like 'sniveling prick' so you cut him off quickly and continue. "I don't know, I don't have a reason, if anything I should probably be a pretty happy person so I don't _know_ why I'm not. There's just something wrong with me and I don't know what. I don't know _why_ I want to go fall off a bridge instead of walking the rest of the way home to people who care about me and a nice place to live and a good life and everything like that. I don't _know_ why I'm always _so fucking sad all the time._ "

He doesn't seem to know what to say to this either, so you both continue to sit in somewhat awkward silence for a moment before the door swings back open and your brothers show up again. Dirk sets something down on the table next to you, probably not coffee, but you don't bother looking over to see what it is. You take a breath and look down at your arm and see an IV in it for the first time. The soft beeps are still there and although you're anything but happy to still be able to hear that beeping in your ears, but for now you think you're willing to at least try and find a moment when you will be happy with it.

Karkat stands up and looks at you, giving you a long look so that you know that the conversation isn't over. You notice for what isn't the first time how pale and thin he is, how dark the bags under his eyes are. "I go to your school," he tells you in a tired voice. "Just thought I would point that out. I was gone for the first part of the semester, but I hang out with John and the rest of those losers. I don't know when to expect you at school again, but I'll tell you two things and you damn well better listen to them. You better show back up at school sometime and you better show up at John's piano recital. So I'll see you there, then."

You watch the door swing shut behind him and sink further down in the bed. Now that he's gone you're really going to get grilled and you know it.

"Dave." No, you think for now you'll just pretend not to hear them.

"Dave." Is that a window to your left? Woah, what the _fuck_ it is indeed a window! Would you look at the fine work they put into that brick wall that you see? And seriously, wow, look at the wing-work on that bird flying by right now!

"Dave Elizabeth Strider."

"My middle name isn't—," Dammit, you're fraternizing with the enemy. You begrudgingly look over at them and see that they're serious now and you want to shrink down into the bed and into the ground and straight down into the Earth. "I'm sorry," you whisper in a small voice. You're not sorry for trying, but you're sorry for hurting them like that.

Dirk leans against the wall and lets Bro take over, since he's probably the one who knows what he's talking about.

"You can't do that again," he starts, then pauses. "Seriously. Don't you dare even try. I just want to ask you one question, and we'll leave you alone for now about it. But you have to answer me and I want you to answer it with the truth, don't give me bullshit about this, alright? I just want to know _why,_ Dave."

"I don't know," you practically whimper because _damn you sound like a girl right now and you think you might cry in a second_ but for now you just look him in the eye and he sighs really heavily and nods.

"Well… this is going to end, alright? This depression thing. We'll figure this out, alright? We'll figure this all out somehow."

You don't know exactly how he expects you to do that, but you assume that he means therapy and other forms of help, as well as people constantly watching you like a hawk. If that's what it takes, though, then maybe you're okay with that until you're okay with living.


	13. Act Three, Part Five

**A/N: THIS IS THE THIRTEENTH CHAPTER IN EXACTLY TWENTY FOUR MINUTES, SOMEBODY STOP ME BECAUSE I'M OUT OF CONTROL -TK**

They're letting you out today, which makes it sound like you're finally getting a little freedom again. You are not, of course, getting any more freedom other than your laptop and being able to actually leave your room rather than sitting in the same hospital room for days on end. You regret not going home and going on a suicidal fit instead for several reasons, the first of which is because you didn't succeed. The second of which is that since it was pointless all that it got you was a lot of concerned looks, a lot of serious talks, a whole lot of aching, a broken rib or two and nobody actually trusts you to walk places alone now.

It's only when Dirk is there (with an ironic hair ruffle, the asshole) that something occurs to you: you never actually questioned why Karkat was casually in the hospital. Or why most of the doctors seemed to know him, or at least recognize him. He was pale, thin, and when it came to walks or cold weather Karkat noped out faster than you when it came to exercise.) Now you were never one for trying to figure these things out, but you also weren't stupid and you knew that something was up. Both of the Wednesdays and Fridays that you'd been in the hospital he'd showed up at three exactly, stayed for an hour and a half and then had left right at four thirty. John's piano recital was tonight and you had plans to be there, and really not because Karkat had practically threatened you to be there. A piano recital seemed like the girliest thing ever to have, which made it sound like something John would totally have, and you were so not willing to miss it.

Because it was on the other side of New York you were forcing your brother to drive you (not that walking was going to be an option anyways, not after your little episode at least). That left you with four hours to do whatever you wanted.

After your brother let you go to your room, anyways. Bro forced you to eat something and telling you that he was also forcing you to see a therapist twice a week before letting you disappear into your room. Oh, the joys of a room all to yourself and closed windows that didn't allow any sunlight to stream through. Your bed looked incredibly comfortable compared to the one that you'd spent two weeks sitting on while you fucked around on your phone, but because you'd just spent two weeks fucking around on your phone on a bed you decide against that and rather sit down at your laptop, booting it up and savoring the whirring of the ancient Dell Vostro 1220. By ancient you meant maybe ten years old, but if you think about phones ten years ago that was enough to make it obvious that the laptop was definitely anything but first class. It was black and red, didn't hook up to anything, could play CD's but not DVD's, constantly disconnected from the Wi-Fi and glitched every ten minutes. But it worked just fine and was equipped with Windows 7, so you weren't complaining at all. Sure, it couldn't run a copy of Amnesia or Stairs, but it could at least connect you with the other introverts of the world, and that was good enough for you.

When it finally boots up and it's just you and the soft whir of the fan you log into Pesterchum and read the messages that have been left from John. There's an unopened conversation from a username you've never known from just a few hours ago, but you don't bother with it and instead just read John's messages.

ghostyTrickster [GT] started pestering turntechGodhead [TG] at 9:00pm

GT: oh my god dave you have to come back to school right this moment

GT: when are you coming back anyways?

GT: seriously

GT: school's really boring without you

GT: everyone here is boring and I never realized that until this moment

GT: they all keep talking about a dumb video game

GT: which I guess it looks kind of interesting but its not THAT interesting

GT: i don't know how I ever survived before this year

GT: oh! Dave! You're still coming to my thing on the 21st right?

GT: karkat said that you are but I am not sure whether or not you actually said that or if hes just set on that

GT: speaking of karkat i gave him your chumhandle

GT: he types in all caps and hes kind of hard to miss :B

GT: I don't actually know when youre going to be back though so I'll just let you read this whenever you do and you can reply then

ghostyTricker [GT] ceased pestering turntechGodhead [TG] at 9:15pm

You assume that the unopened conversation is from the shouty asshole who only wears black and gray and reluctantly go to open that as well, skimming through it quickly and finding that it was pretty much just the exact same thing, which meant he had probably hassled John for your chumhandle (or John gave it to him without Karkat asking, which honestly wouldn't have surprised you either) and had messaged you to ensure that you would be there that night. You sent them each the same message assuring them that you would, in fact, be there that night. You closed the window, going and trying to catch up with the things happening on the internet for the next two hours before shutting the laptop and letting the whir die down. The battery light blinked at you and you plugged in the old thing before sitting in the dark for a minute or two. You pushed back your chair, opening the door to your room and going out into the living room at the end of the hall where Bro is working. He glances up at you and you know he watches you for a minute before you cut through the kitchen and into the other living room where Dirk is sprawled on the couch and playing a video game. You're not really in the mood for any real human interaction, but you are in the mood for a good game of Left For Dead, so you sit on the couch and he glances up, wordlessly handing you an X-Box controller. You press and hold the button until it flares up green and your character screen pops up. The silence between the two of you is comfortable enough for a solid hour and a half to pass before he finally pressed the 'pause' button and in turn you looked over at him. He's silent for a second and you know something is coming because if it was just a stupid comment he wouldn't have had to think this hard about it.

"If it was because I'm going to college—,"

"It's not," you cut him off before he can even finish. Is that what he thought? As if it could be his fault in any way. "I mean, I guess I wasn't really sure what to think about you not being here—cause you've always been here—but that wasn't it. I don't know how to explain it but there wasn't a _reason…_ I mean, not really. I don't know why I always think like that when I walk home or why I have days where I hate the thought of getting up, but when I do get up to go to school everything is always just… off. My mind just isn't there and I don't want to talk to anyone but I always have to just suck it up and talk to them and go to school and walk home and I hate the idea of doing any of it and that just makes it all worse. It's like… it's like everything is detached and I'm seeing it all through a movie. But the movie is _me_ and I have to think up the things that the character has to say. But I'm worried about fucking up the movie and it makes some days really suck. But some days it's not… there. The detached feeling," you don't know why you're telling him this, you've never told anyone this. "I didn't do it because of anything that anyone's done. Uh, not really I guess. Nobody that actually matters." You shrug and look down at the blanket and he must get the hint to drop it because he just glances at his watch and stretches, standing up.

"C'mon, kid, you've got places to be. You'll be late if we don't leave now."

"Grab your phone," Bro adds, from where he's apparently been sitting at the table on his phone. "And keep it on so that you'll hear if one of us texts you. I'll be there at six thirty to pick you up." You roll your eyes because he's being way too over-protective but grab your phone and unmute it anyways. You pluck your coat off a hanger from the closet as a last minute choice and open the door, waiting for your brother and sticking your hands in your pockets as you head down the hall to the elevator.

You spend the first fifteen minutes of the drive arguing over the music with Dirk before you both finally settle on White Lies. It's old, but you like the way that about it. If anyone asks, though, you like the band for ironic purposes. The rest of the drive is spent in argument over a game coming out soon, which Dirk seems less than interested in but that you're willing to at least try. It seems high-tech, and thought you haven't heard too much on it, it's definitely caught your interest.

He drops you off outside the large building, and it's so round and tall that you feel small next to it. You shove your hands back in your pocket and take a step towards the door as a familiar voice cuts through the other voices.

"Hey, Strider!" You turn and there's the shouty asshole in all his glory, still looking as thin and tired as always.

No, you take that back. If you had to describe Karkat Vantas in two words, you don't know what those two words would be, but you know that they wouldn't be thin and tired. Yes, he always looks thin—his clothes hang off him, he's a stick next to anyone and he makes some furniture seem a lot bigger than it actually is—and _yes_ he always looks incredibly tired with his dark eyebags that contrast so obviously on his pale skin and the way that he looks like he could practically fall asleep right that moment sometimes, but the thing about Karkat is that you didn't notice those things right away.

The things that you did notice were things like the fact that he always sounds like he's yelling, even when he's mumbling so softly that you barely catch what he's saying. Thin and tired makes him sound weak and small, but Karkat Vantas was anything but weak and small. He was fiery and loud, if anything.

So he was hard to miss as he stalked over to you and gave you a small nod as if saying that you would live another day as a reward for showing up to Egbert's thing.

You walk in together and Karkat seems to know what he's doing as he leads you down a passage of winding hallways and into a room where John is on his phone and looking like he probably should have been doing something but had just grown too lazy. He glances up at you with a dorky grin that makes your heart flip for reasons you can't pin-point.

Maybe it has something to do with the fact that he looks damn good in a suit.


End file.
